Chapter Five
Rob wasn’t sad to see Danny pull out of the campground, headed south. Joey had left an hour earlier, as soon as the breakfast dishes were washed, and now it was just him and Brian.
Splitting the work between two instead of four didn’t seem great on the surface, but the workload changed now that they were semi-open.
It was less about the physical work of getting the campground ready after a harsh winter and years of owners who let the upkeep slide, and more about the day-to-day running of the place.
And the energy between him and Brian was different when the older two weren’t around.
Calmer, somewhat, with less fighting for attention.
Maybe it was their personalities or maybe it was being the youngest two of four boys, but they’d always gotten along better when it was just the two of them.
“How’s the pool doing?” Brian asked as he unlocked the store for the day.
“I’m almost afraid to say it out loud, but I think it might be good.
The chemical cocktail will dilute and I should have the feel for that line between no slime but safe for the little humans by Memorial Day.
” Rob watched Stella walk past the dog bed that had her name on it and hop onto one of the leather chairs they’d put in the store for rainy days.
“It’s supposed to be a nice day, so I’m hoping to get some good photos for the website and social media.
It looks a lot better now that the cement’s painted and the water’s clear. ”
“You did a good job on it, for sure.”
Rob paused, surprised by the praise. “Thanks.”
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Brian flipped open the notebook Danny had provided for them to write notes and tasks in so there was a central place for everything.
They’d started with sticky notes, but that had gotten out of hand pretty quickly. There were sticky notes everywhere, even some in the house, and there was no organizational structure. They’d fall off, and then Stella ate one and nobody called the propane company.
“I’m going to set up the camping shelves, I think.
” There was a section of shelves in the back of the store that would stock a variety of things people might have forgotten or need to replace—especially tenters.
Things like generic tent pegs, tarps, parts for Coleman lanterns and stoves.
They’d even decided to stock a couple of sleeping bags, though the markup on those would probably encourage folks to make the drive into town.
They also had a section with commonly needed things for RVs—light bulbs and hose fittings and the like—and some stuff for ATVs.
That was harder because every brand was different, but they stocked several common weights of oil, gloves and some miscellaneous parts. And plenty of duct tape and zip ties.
They’d already done the shelves of snacks and canned goods, along with staples and condiments.
There had been a lot of debate about being a campground store versus being something of a general store that served the community.
The latter meant a lot more in the way of juggling groceries and expiration dates, and they’d decided to start small and see how it went.
And the priority up to now had been the food and the RV stuff, but even though they weren’t open to tenters yet, there were a lot passing through the area.
“I’m going to set up this laminator thing and get some signs made,” Brian said.
They’d decided rather than paying a professional to make signs, they’d print and laminate their own for things like showering trail grime off before getting in the pool because it wasn’t a bathtub, and not flushing anything down the toilets that wasn’t supposed to be.
They’d assumed those things were obvious, but the previous owners had informed them that was definitely not the case.
An hour later, Rob was on his hands and knees, half in the shelving unit as he tried to reach the dust in the back corners of the bottom shelf.
It had been there so long, he wasn’t sure it even qualified as dust anymore.
It was more like a grimy cement film that defied anything but extreme scouring.
The bell over the door rang, but he ignored it. Brian was still behind the counter, having a long, obscenity-laden argument with the laminator after winning an intense fight with the printer, and he’d probably welcome the opportunity to deal with a human. Technology was kicking his ass.
“Good morning,” he heard Brian say. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you could point me in the direction of a decent grocery store.”
Hannah. Rob’s head jerked toward the sound of her voice. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember the shelves until his skull hit the one above him with a solid thunk.
Biting back a curse, he eased away from the shelves. Once he was clear of them, he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.
“You okay over there, Bobby?”
Rob clenched his jaw. He had no doubt Brian had used his childhood nickname deliberately.
“Bobby?”
“Oh, my brother Rob. Old habit, I guess.” Even though Brian wasn’t in his sight line, Rob could imagine the smirk on his brother’s face. “I don’t know if you’ve met him yet. He was in the pool when you checked in.”
Yeah, he was definitely doing it on purpose.
“I’ve met Rob,” he heard Hannah say, and he held his breath as he waited to see if she’d tell Brian about his photography faux pas yesterday. “We ran into each other while he was taking pictures for the website, but I didn’t think to ask him about grocery stores.”
With a sigh of relief, Rob stepped out of the aisle so she could see him. “Hi, Hannah.”
She didn’t smile, but her expression softened slightly. “Hello again.”
“There’s a market not too far down the road,” Brian said. “You would have passed it on your way in.”
“I did, but I’m looking more for an actual grocery store. Like the one where the locals shop, not places to grab a few things. I’m out of pretty much everything and I want to stock up so I’m not running to the market a few times a week.”
“Sounds like a Grocery Shopping Trip of Doom,” Rob said with a chuckle.
Hannah, on the other hand, didn’t look amused at all. She frowned. “I’m really hoping there’s no doom in my shopping.”
“Oh, sorry. Not actual doom.” He wasn’t sure how to explain it, and he looked to Brian for help. “It’s an expression my family’s always used. It means...”
His brother shrugged. “Epic, I guess?”
“That’s a good word for it.” Rob looked back to Hannah. “When we were kids and something was epic, it was always like the Camping Trip of Doom or the Volleyball Tournament of Doom. We used to play a game in the pool called Water Ball of Doom.”
“Everything was doom,” Brian muttered. “Why did we do that? Who started it?”
“I don’t remember.”
Hannah shrugged. “It sounds like your childhoods were pretty epic, so there’s that.”
“True. We had some good times—especially here.” He pulled out his phone. “I can send you the location of the store we like. It’s about a half hour from here and the prices are higher than they are down at home, but they have a decent selection and it’s the cheapest in the area.”
A moment after he sent it and her phone chimed, he realized it might appear strange that he had her contact info saved in his phone. But maybe she’d just assume he had all of the campers’ information in there in case there was a problem.
He should probably do that.
“Thanks,” she said, after checking the text. “Oh, and one more thing while I’m here. Is it okay if I walk out back in the woods? I don’t have an ATV, obviously, so I’m not very interested in the trail system, but I like to walk.”
Rob looked to Brian, who only shrugged. They hadn’t talked about it since most of their campers were there for the ATV trail systems. “I guess that’s okay. The cell phone reception is pretty sketchy, from what I remember when we walked the land, so you have to be careful.”
Her smile twisted him up inside, but he did his best not to show it. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
He didn’t even realize he’d watched her leave and then stared at the door until the pen Brian threw hit him in the back of the head.
Hannah almost made it back to her site without any more interaction, but then she ran into a couple walking a small dog that started yapping hysterically as soon as it spotted her.
“Sorry,” the woman said, picking up the dog, which immediately bared its teeth and gave Hannah a look that promised as soon as it could figure out how he’d manage it, he was going to tear her apart. “He’s not very friendly.”
“No problem.”
“I’m Tony,” the man said, holding out his hand, which Hannah shook. “My wife is Barb, and the little guy’s Oscar.”
As in The Grouch? Hannah didn’t ask the question out loud, and she was thankful Barb didn’t extend her hand because she was pretty sure if she reached out, she was going to lose a finger or two to the dog in her arms. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“We’re on site eleven.”
“Twenty-nine.” Hannah pictured the campground map in her head, and site eleven seemed far enough away so she wouldn’t hear Oscar threatening everybody who walked by once the campground fully opened.
“Where are you from?” Barb asked. “We drive up from Rhode Island.”
“I’m from Northern California,” she said, and the couple looked surprised. “A little north of San Francisco.”
“I guess you won’t be doing the weekend thing, then,” Tony said, and they all laughed.
“I’ll be here until the end of July, and then I’ll head home and get back to work.
” Probably. She wasn’t sure exactly what that work would entail, but she’d have to do something.
The podcast had given them nice savings accounts—hers a little nicer than Erika’s thanks to her lack of interest in shoes—but she’d burn through a big chunk of it this summer.
“What do you do?” Barb asked, and Hannah winced because she’d opened that door herself.